Bering & Wells: 30 Days of OTP
by CurlyTuft
Summary: 30 Bering & Wells-related short stories that take place in one universe over the course of a year.
1. Chapter 1: Holding Hands

Again, a bit late to the 30 Days of OTP party; however, better late than never.

All 30 of these short stories are intertwined in the same universe throughout the year and can be spliced along with my other story_ And No One Dared_. Thank you again for reading!

* * *

"Is there a particular reason you want to go to the beach?" Helena's glaring at me, wondering if I've gone completely insane as I sling a backpack over my shoulder. "It is October and windy."

She clings to her Styrofoam cup of coffee as we walk over impressive dunes down towards the water. I simply smile at her and grasp her available hand as we walk down a wooden staircase towards the finely sanded beach. "C'mon, this isn't Dover, you'll be fine."

At the bottom of the stairs, I take off my socks and sneakers and encourage Helena to do the same. We toss everything into a plastic bag and trudge along with cool sand wedging itself between our toes.

There is no one else on the beach. It's desolate, quiet and bright out for an October afternoon after Columbus Day. The two of us have discovered that we enjoy going to well-visited locales in the off-season when we can have an entire venue, park or beachfront, in this case, to ourselves. I look at our feet and see that our footprints are the only ones in the sand; that is, the only human footprints as there are a few imprints from small birds and seagulls.

When we find an appropriate spot well away from the staircase with dry sand, no pointy shells and no dingy washed up seaweed, I stop and open the backpack to take out a little red blanket to spread out on the sand.

"So that's why you nicked that from the plane."

"I did not _nick_ it. Okay, I suppose I did, but I'll return it on the way home." I say as I spread out the blanket. Helena holds up her hand above her eyes and squints out at the ocean. The blueish/green water rolling in against the shore is calming and she watches the each wave gently crash. She is still staring out at the water and taking sips of coffee when I sit down and stretch out my legs. When I pat the space next to me, she turns around sees me seated, soon following my lead.

I put my arm around her waist and she makes a little groove in the sand for her precious cup of coffee. When done, she reaches for my hand and holds it, toying with the ring around my finger. Helena is always fiddling with some object or another, this time it's my ring. She looks at my hand, smiling at the memory of when she gave it to me that Christmas Eve and how surprised I had been. It's our second trip to the East Coast this year due to a ping in Upstate New York. Since Claudia had been with us, she was able to take the artifact back to the Warehouse and we decided to take a well-earned vacation, which has inadvertently led us here to the Cape.

"Did you happen to see the name of where we are?"

"Marconi Beach. Peculiar name for a beach."

"It is named for Guglielmo Marconi. There was a telegraph station just north of us where the first wireless Transatlantic message was sent, so the beach here was named for him."

"Is that so?" Helena leans her head towards my shoulder, nibbling and kissing any bare skin she finds. I easily lose my train of thought as her lips explore my neck and I grip her hand tighter.

My wife is here, holding my hand as we look out at the sunset, we are madly in love and thousands of miles away from cases, pings and inventory back in South Dakota. The beach is serene, the sea air refreshing and the company absolutely perfect. It's the late afternoon, in the fall, in New England on a sunny, clear day and it's perfect.


	2. Chapter 2: Cuddling Somewhere

Britain might have been referred to as a nation of shopkeepers, but it is a task in which I had never seen myself engaging - until today. I look over at Myka, happily ringing up a customer who purchased an original printing of _Tropic of Cancer_. She carefully wraps the book up with tissue paper and places it into a paper bag with a smile. She makes small talk with the woman about her purchase, asking if she had been looking for the book for a long time and if it's her first time in the shop. Once the woman leaves, it's just the two of us again.

"Hi."

Myka looks up at the clock overhead and then to me. "Hi yourself. You find something to occupy you?"

I gesture the air around me. "We're in a bookstore, I'm fairly certain I could never be bored here." I walk over to her and give her a kiss. "Time to close?"

"Yup." Myka walks over to the entrance, turning the lock and bolting the top and bottom of the door. I watch her lanky frame reach up then delightfully bend down to secure the door. It takes my brain a brief moment to gather my thoughts. "What have you been doing this afternoon?"

"Well..." I trail off and walk towards the light switch to turn off the overhead lights. Behind a nearby waist-high bookcase there is an assortment of pillows, blankets and books tossed on the floor. The small space is lit by an oil lantern I found upstairs in the apartment. With the smell of old books and furniture surrounding me, it was impossible to not enjoy holing myself away in this enclosed spot while Myka took care of the little things.

I casually eye the corner where the oil lamp emanates light and get Myka to follow the direction of my eyes. Her eyes wander to the spot and she just crosses her arms. She's smiling at the cubby I've been reading in for the past day, walking towards the very comfortable-looking space. I amble over to where she stands and wrap my arms around her waist, positioning my chin upon her shoulder, which involves me standing on my toes.

We stay like that for a moment until I break the silence. "Come join me."

Myka steps aside as I remove my arms from her waist and I lead us into the reading niche. I place myself against the wall, finally patting the space between my legs to invite her to sit between them. She obediently follows by cuddling up against me. It's wonderful to be away from the Warehouse and the day-to-day stresses of artifact retrieval and inventory; Myka's relaxed and happy, I'm rested and in a loving mood. I pull a blanket up to keep the dampness away and pick up the book closest to me and begin to read aloud.

"'"I do think it was the most fortunate thing in the world that those children should have the measles just now," said Meg, one April day...'"

"You've been reading_ Little Women_?" Myka says as she turns her head towards me.

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No, no, no. I think that's adorable...especially with that accent of yours." She settles herself back against me. "Go on."

She can be so bossy sometimes.

With darling Claudia's technical assistance and American accent along with my cunning and finances, we concocted a prize: one-week getaway for two to Florida. It was a bit far-fetched, but Myka's parents seem such quiet people who don't get out much and probably wouldn't notice how it all came about. I merely think of it as my/our indirect way of encouraging them to be adventuresome as well as my way of finding Myka and me alone in a bookshop for a week.


	3. Chapter 3: Going to the Movies

"I like how riding the Tube is still enjoyable to you."

"It is far more vast than when I was...around."

Helena takes my hand in hers, pressing her thumb against my palm. In the middle of the workday, pretty much no one else is riding the Central Line and we're essentially alone in the carriage, aside from a teenage couple most likely playing hooky and necking at the other end. We sit sideways, next to each other, stretching out our legs with one of mine resting against the middle pole. She dislikes taking taxis everywhere (as do I), preferring the dark subterranean world that is the Tube.

Once we arrive at our station, we get out and look for the appropriate exit to street-level. "The way out is over here."

I take a moment to rile her up a bit as we walk towards the exit. "Not sure why it can't be called an 'exit' when it's two letters and a space shorter." I always have loved it when she gives me an earful on the origin or meaning of something.

"Myka, it's always been 'way out.'"

I smile at her and playfully tug the hem of the coat she's wearing. It'd be easier to say "her" coat, but it's actually one of mine. She knows I'm teasing her, but perhaps she is not ready for that. Our relationship is still new and this is the first time we've traveled anywhere alone together, granted it is for work and we have tried to make a bit of a break built into it. We have a few days in England before heading home, garnering even more stamps in our already bulky passports.

We climb the steps up to the street and Helena again takes the lead. Each time we leave a Tube station and get up to street level, I look in her eyes to see if she is amazed or taken back by the changes around the city she once loved. At this exit, some things are familiar and some different to her, but overall she looks at ease. She holds out her arm to me as we walk down the street together.

It's not terribly cold and no one is really around at this time of day, which is why it's the best time to go to the movies. The chances that we'll have the entire place to ourselves is high. The movie theater is just a couple blocks from the Tube station; Helena insisted on going to this one rather than an ultra mega-duplex around town.

Early in the afternoon, there's no line at the ticket window and no line inside for treats. I check out the candy selection and am disappointed to not see any Twizzlers in there, then sadly come to realize that they aren't sold in Britain. Helena picks out some malted chocolate balls and a bottle of water, but pauses when she sees me still looking in the case for something I'd like.

"It's alright," she says as she gently touches my arm. "You can share with me."

I tilt my head downwards and peck her cheek. "Thanks."

We walk into the theater, immediately noticing that there are a few other people here, but nowhere near the typical crowd one would see on a Friday evening. Once I stop taking note of the audience, I pause for a moment at the splendor of this movie theater. It's old, built when Helena was still at Warehouse 12, and was originally designed as a music hall. I have no problem imagining this place as a loud home to live entertainment back in the day; it's pretty, red plush seating, yellow curtain, molding and decor that remind me of Helena's past.

I'm still gawking at my surroundings when she calls to me.

"Over here!" She's already seated with the coat off, popping open her bag of candy as the lights dim. I quickly remove my coat and settle next to her. Helena places the bottle of water on the floor between our seats.

"Before I forget..." Helena reaches into her pocket and pulls out a packet of Twizzlers. "...these are for you." The wrapper is a bit beaten up from being tossed in her carry on, nonetheless it's unopened.

I am so smitten.


	4. Chapter 4: On a Date

Despite the wonders I have seen of the 21st century thus far, these so-called "big box" stores and chain restaurants intrigue me the most. By intrigue, I mean to say that they are fascinating: the sheer size of open selling space, the variety of products, the redundant menus and bulk packaging of everyday items. It is impressive, yet impersonal. I am taken aback each time I'm approached by someone trying to help me, especially given the number of shoppers around the store. That and I'm not too fond of anyone but Myka fawning over my accent, especially if I am shopping for something as mundane as socks or parsnips.

If there is one thing I have learnt from Myka regarding modern consumer culture, it's that so-called "mom and pop" and local shops are disappearing and these big stores seem to be putting them out of business. Whenever we go somewhere, we look for local places just because sometimes we like to be quirky and adventuresome.

Today it's Myka's turn to pick out our date location. She always seems to know exactly what sort of activity we should do. I typically am bewildered and suggest a walk in the park, tea/coffee or a movie curled up in bed. Even though we have only been "together" for a month or so, it still feels as if we have been doing this little dance for far longer. I think about the before and after of it, there isn't much difference aside from the physical affections we bestow upon each other and the more open expression of our emotions and feelings.

As we're in Seattle for a case and have the afternoon and evening free on a Friday, Myka decides it's as good a time as any for an impromptu date.

"This is a proper date, right?"

We still have the hired car and are driving in some residential area of the north of the city. "It's a date." Myka's behind the wheel as she is the only one with the patience for driving in cities and residential zones; I prefer speeding on the highways and not having to look out for pedestrians. She reaches across the console to hold my hand. "

I squeeze her hand as we approach a traffic light. "You are at least going to buy me dinner? Tea? Coffee? I am fairly hungry."

She angles her curly mane towards me, exasperated that I even have to ask. Her hair is even more out of control with this humidity. "Of course! What sort of girlfriend would I be?" she asks with a wink.

A few minutes later, we drive up to a small red brick building with windmills and a giant Starbucks sign. I sometimes fear where Myka will take me on these expeditions, but in the end I simply succumb to her excellent judgment. She parks the car and we saunter up to the entrance. It's chilly and a bit rainy; however, we enjoy the varied weather as opposed to the either intense snow or heat of South Dakota.

Apparently we're at some sort of local eatery that specializes in handmade, gourmet burgers. Myka stands slightly in front of me as she looks up at the board with the menu options. There are so many choices nowadays, no matter where you go: it's sometimes overwhelming.

"Would you be terribly opposed to me getting something with lots of onion?" I whisper into her ear.

Myka quietly laughs and grabs my hand when she leans backwards to reply. "No, go ahead and get something oniony. You'll only be kissing me anyways."

We order our food, sit down at a table by the window and wait. Myka's quiet, toying with her ring, looking out the window. I sit besides her, quiet too, until I reach for her fidgeting hand.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just a bit tired."

I look at her, tilting her head backwards, still looking outside. She does look exhausted. She's trying to make the most of this bit of downtime that we have and it's so sweet of her. "How about I ask them to wrap up our dinner? We can eat back at the hotel, indulge in a view of the Bay, run you a bath and then I can tuck you into bed."

"That sounds wonderful."

"If you're tired, tell me. I can...rise to the occasion, Myka." I kiss her unruly head of curls and approach the counter. In a matter of moments, everything is packaged up and we're heading out the door back to our hotel. I veer her towards the passenger door, passing her the bag of food. "Here, I'll drive."

She smiles at me, fully well knowing how much I hate city driving, but love pleasing her at every opportunity.


	5. Chapter 5: Kissing

Shortly after everyone returned from their Christmas, we immediately stepped up to take the last ping of the year over in Scotland. I figured, we could stand to get away for a few days and have a bit more time to ourselves, even if it did involve work. Our relationship (at the sexual side of things) was still new and we were definitely in a kind of honeymoon stage where we found ourselves always attached at the hip - literally. I would have thought that with all of the traveling Helena did during her absence, she wouldn't want to step near a plane unless it was an absolutely necessity. I was incredibly wrong.

I probably should have figured it out when we were in New York for a layover and she ushered me into one of those business lounges. Then I ought to have figured it out when we got on the plane and basically had this compartment-like space with a mostly flat bed for the two of us along with glasses of red wine as soon as we sat down. To add further insult to my brain not properly functioning, I neglected to see that we were checking into an expensive-looking hotel overlooking Princes Street.

One of those little things that I was slowly beginning to notice about Helena was that she liked to splurge. I remember before the trident, before the hologram, before the absence, she always liked to try new things or do a little something extra for me. Always something out-of-the-way. Even as a new couple, she has surprised me nearly every day with breakfast in bed (either made at home or from the bakery in town) or running me (but more like us) a bath at the end of the day. She has been trying so hard to make it up to me, but I honestly don't need to have anything made up to me when I have her.

We're lucky to find the artifact and have everything squared away within 48 hours, it's certainly one of the easier snag, grab and tags I've ever had. We finish the retrieval the morning of New Year's Eve. Already, Edinburgh is bustling with visitors for Hogmanay this Monday afternoon and we make some last-minute arrangements for the evening.

We're walking down the stairs of a narrow close in the Old Town, on our way back to our room. "As much fun as it would be to be amongst the madding crowd, I'd much prefer to be locked away in our room, rolling between the sheets along with some champagne on ice." Helena coyly suggests.

I can easily get behind that. For a moment, I am taken aback by her beauty; walking with hands in her pockets, knit cap covering her ears, jacket buttoned all the way up to keep out the chill. She pays careful attention to her steps. It's impossible to tire of seeing her bundled up against the cold, casually walking down the street with me. There are certainly a good number of people on the streets, but for the most part they are headed towards the New Town and wandering over there.

Suddenly, I am overcome with a need to kiss her. No one else is walking down this particular close, we're alone, it's as quiet as it can get on a day like today and the tall buildings keep out some of the wind chill. I pull her hand from her pocket to steady her once we reach a landing and gently press her against the wall and hand rail.

"Oh." she quietly says at the contact of her back against the wall. My hands find the lapels of her (my) jacket to keep her in place, my right knee angles itself between her thighs, pressing into her just enough to cause Helena to emit another short exasperation. Her arms snake around my waist to pull me closer.

Helena leans her lips towards mine, desperate to connect with my skin in this cold. I press into her further, meeting her slightly opened mouth. My heart pounds as my tongue extends to touch hers: warm, soft and wet. The arms that were once around my waist are now securely resting at my sides, her hands in the back pockets of my jeans. When I need to catch my breath, I tilt my head so it's beneath her chin where I tug to loosen her scarf as to kiss and lick the hollow of her neck. I moan against the smooth skin there, trailing my lower lip upwards and kissing my way back towards her mouth.

"Happy New Year." I say with a smile. When I move my leg that was against her, I immediately feel the wetness that I've accumulated in this little endeavor. The sensation of being so turned on by this woman is certainly something to which I happily grow accustom. I imagine Helena feels the same way as I watch her adjust her pants and jacket.

When we part from the kiss, we finish walking down the stairs and I look up and down the street for somewhere to buy alcohol, not as though it is difficult to find a place. More and more people are accumulating on the streets, but we find a shop that still has plenty of good champagne and snacks for later.

Somewhere in the back of Helena's mind, I think she had this planned all along.


	6. Chapter 6: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

Ever since my first day back at Christmas, I have absolutely been in love with wearing Myka's clothes. On that first day, she gave me a pair of her flannel pyjamas to wear. The legs were so long that I needed to roll up the cuffs. Granted the wearing pyjamas aspect of our relationship is essentially void at this point, but I still keep borrowing (or wearing) my beloved's clothes. Over three months later, I own one pair of jeans and one pair of trousers as well as a handful of unmentionables. Everything else, belongs to Myka.

I think she might be getting annoyed with it.

Regardless, she says nothing. I merely keep helping myself to her shirts, socks and exercise outfits. Or maybe she doesn't mind.

* * *

One day where we're working in separate locations (me at the Warehouse with the Regents, she at the inn with Artie looking at some documents), I am surprised by a chime from my mobile. I look down at the screen and see a photo of Myka peering back at me, a photo I took of her sitting on a bench in Boston looking out at the Harbor, with informing me to make my way back home. Strange, I have no idea why she would ask me to come back in the middle of the workday. I inform my fellow Regents that I need to attend to a prior commitment.

It's good to be in cahoots with the Regents: no questions asked.

Heading out the Umbilicus, I make my way towards our car parked near the entrance. I make the seven-mile drive in about ten minutes, hastily parking and getting out.

"Hello!" I shout as I open the front door.

No one replies. The entire place is quiet.

I walk upstairs to our room, open the door and find Myka switching off the bathroom light. The room is slightly dark, only lit by the light emanating from between the blinds. I toss my jacket onto the chair by the bed to move towards her.

"You need to stop stealing my clothes." She says as she wanders out of the bathroom towards me. Myka has a towel draped around her, looking as though she has just got out of the shower and as if she is going to eat me alive.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it had become a problem."

"Oh, it is."

She removes her towel to expose the harness and strap-on with which_ I _am permitted to pleasure her. It's _hers_, strictly for her gratification.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Maybe so."

Pushing me down on the bed, Myka makes quick work of my boots and trousers, tossing the shoes to the corner of the room and unzipping my jeans. My mind is racing as she hooks her fingers beneath the elastic of my knickers, enthusiastically leaving me before her in nothing but my tank top. The devilish smile on her lips leaves me little to imagine when she is poised above me. She rests her weight on one side with her hand propping herself up.

She is above me, kissing me, pressing against my thigh with the dildo. I have seen Myka take charge before, but nothing like this. As far as I know, Myka has never done this before, at least not with this particular apparatus. It was a spur-of-the-moment purchase when we were on vacation last month, something that we both wanted to try and, subsequently, discovered she thoroughly enjoys me taking her that way. Her gestures and movements are loving; however, carefully planned. The hand is that now free wanders between my legs, teasing my entrance trying to determine how wet I am. I can certainly feel it, I've felt it since the moment I saw Myka wearing only the strap-on. She dips her fingers into me, pleased to find me ready and lubricates the dildo with my spendings.

When she enters me, I cling my hands to her hips and bottom, and writhe in euphoria beneath her.

"Truthfully," I manage to pant out once we lay spent in each other's arms, "I don't mind it if you wear my things."


	7. Chapter 7: Cosplaying

"I feel so out of place." Myka says to me as we get out of the taxi and gauge our surroundings.

"Well, I can't say I am perfectly at ease, but when I first arrived in the 21st century, all of your clothes seemed like some futuristic outfit. When I put on a blouse or tight trousers, it did feel as if I was wearing a costume."

"And now?"

"Now I'm used to it. Not to mention the sight of your arse in said tight trousers is delightful." Fortunate me is gifted with a lovely rolling of the eyes. Myka is having none of my shenanigans today. "Let's find this artifact and get going."

When we approach the main entrance, we flash our badges to the t-shirted staff at the gate. I'm not sure about Myka, but I am completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of the crowds and the number of participants wearing all sorts of costumes. She seems a bit surprised by it all as well, but living with Pete and Claudia (two impressive pop culture geeks) has certainly eased the shock of being here. The sight of Stormtroopers, _Serenity_ crew and Doctor Whos is a bit much on this October afternoon when I honestly just want to be curled up with Myka and sipping a pumpkin spice latte somewhere.

It's some sort of artifact that has properties to make a person disappear. Claudia brought the ping to our attention as Myka and me are in the vicinity. No one has apparently gone missing lately; however, the ping is strong enough for Claudia to have alerted us to its presence.

Wandering the aisles of vendors, there are lots of interesting gadgets and memorabilia. Perhaps when we're done I ought to pick up some Christmas gifts for Claudia; it's never too early. There's just so much...stuff...everywhere here and so many eager spectators gobbling it all up. One booth is selling _Doctor Who_ memorabilia, lots of DVDs, figures and TARDIS-shaped anything. It seems as good a place as any to find a present.

I settle on a multi-colored scarf, which I decide to put on to blend in a bit more with the throngs of people pushing past me. This is as dressed up as I will get for an event such as this. For a moment, I think that if I had shown up in my "old" clothes with one of my former coiffures, I'd fit in very well. The lightweight scarf I had been wearing is tossed into the messenger bag at my side.

A couple hours later, Myka is wandering over by some animation booth and I walk over to her looking at the cells. "Is that..." Myka bites the corner of her lip and points towards the scarf I'm wearing.

I cross my arms as I glare at her. "What?"

"The scarf."

"You like it? I found this for Claude. You know how much she loves the Fourth Doctor."

Myka's eyes widen and she pulls me to a secluded area of the floor. "Helena, this is artifact. It's the scarf!"

"No, it's a replica. See, there's a BBC logo at the bottom..." My voice trails as I don't see a tag at the hem like the others from the display.

"No, it's the original. This is what's causing those disappearances." Myka pulls out some gloves to remove it from me. "It's probably sending people into another dimension or into the future."

I casually glance at the scarf, suddenly noticing the frayed ends of the sides. Then when I realize what Myka is saying, I immediately and rapidly divest myself of it into a static bag. "Oh." I feel silly for not coming to my senses earlier. I try to keep my cool, figuring I had nearly made myself disappear to somewhere in time.

"Trust me." she says as she opens up my bag, looking for my other scarf. Myka pulls it out and drapes it around my neck, tugging it slightly to bring me ever-so slightly closer to her. "There." I softly smile, a bit embarrassed to have put on an artifact, but I truly didn't know. "Come on, let's get out of here. We have all afternoon in the city before we head out."

"At least let me stop back at the booth and pick up a non-artifact scarf for Claudia."

Myka kisses my forehead and we walk back towards the entrance gates. Looks like we will be able to indulge in a lovely autumn afternoon in New York after all.


	8. Chapter 8: Shopping

Helena didn't think I was looking, but I totally saw it all.

It was a few days before the start of Memorial Day Weekend when we decided to have a cook out. Helena had never taken part in one and Pete was eager to chow down on as many burgers and hot dogs that could possibly fit into his stomach over the three-day weekend. I offered up our services to pick up the groceries at the store if Pete would be in charge of grilling everything.

Actually, I had the suspicion that this would actually turn into a pseudo-wedding party or somesuch as we didn't have anyone from the Warehouse with us when we got married, nor did we really tell them that we actually did get married. Seems as good a time as any to tell everyone. Well, it's not as if we really knew we were going to get married at that point, but still. Claudia can't resist a party, nor can Pete. Especially one centered around delicious foods.

We were walking past the pet food and cleaning supplies aisles and both were completely vacant of customers. I held the shopping list, Helena pushed the cart ahead of me. She always gets bored at the grocery store, wondering why anyone would need a gallon of mayonnaise or if dimethylpolysiloxane is truly a food ingredient.

"I've never participated in a cookout, Myka." Helena looked over at me, learning her arms against the cart. My eyes darted from place to place, eager to quickly find what we needed so we could head home. Helena had a pile of experiments at home to work on with Claudia and could have honestly cared less about being at the store with me. She came along because I needed some help with the cart and picking out foods others actually enjoying eating.

"It'll be fun." I added. "Pete does grill a good burger." Burgers are definitely one of Helena's 21st-century weaknesses.

I stopped at the end of an aisle to select some beers in for Steve and me, quickly losing sight of Helena with the cart. Thinking nothing of it (and figuring she just went down another aisle to get something), I shrug it aside and pick out some beer.

From somewhere close to me, I heard the unmistakable click of Helena's boot heels on the linoleum and the sound of the cart rushing in the opposite direction away from me.

Oh no.

I run towards the aisle next to me to catch the last second of Helena speeding down the aisle, riding the shopping cart.

Sometimes, I forget that she missed out on things like this.


	9. Chapter 9: Hanging out with Friends

All of us are sitting outside on the Sunday of Memorial Day Weekend, you know, just hanging out, having some beers, sitting under the stars. It's been a really long time since all of us have been able to get together like this. You know, without a dagger, metronome, plague, impending doom, riots, astrolabes and countless stuff going on. Artie went to the Warehouse for bedtime, leaving the five of us hanging out together after hours. Pete's throwing some more burgers and hot dogs on the grill; I'm pretty sure he and Steve can pack away, like, an entire package of cookies, hot dogs and chips. Each.

We're all out on the porch and patio, just hanging out and being normal for once.

Oh man, I'm dying here. The adorability, the cuteness, the cuddles, the everything. H.G. and Myka are the cutest couple. Ever. The two of them are sitting on the ground, H.G. leaning against the chair where I'm sitting with her arms wrapped around Myka who's leaning against her. Seriously. These two. They're never like this when Artie is giving orders, never all coupley when the Regents are around. I look down at H.G. with one arm across Myka's shoulder, the other playing with the hem of her shorts. The two of them are smiling and laughing at a story Steve is telling about his days at the ATF.

"I got more burgers ready. Anyone?" Pete asks.

Myka and H.G. are muttering something between them. "We'll split one." Myka says as she raises an arm in the air.

"Split...a burger? They're not meant to be split." Pete's floored that they want to share something like a burger. "It's a burger."

"Well, we want to share."

Pete lets out a huge sigh and tosses a napkin-wrapped cheeseburger to the ladies. Myka catches it, peeling back the tissue around it and takes a bite. Once she has some, H.G. goes and takes a bite. They keep on doing this until the burger is gone and Myka has to toss the wrapper back towards Pete. Eventually, Myka gets up and goes to get a wet wipe or something to clean the grease from her hands. She uses it and then gives it to H.G. to use when done.

Walking back towards me, Myka plops herself back down against H.G., resting her head against her shoulder. H.G. totally just plants a huge kiss on Myka's cheek once she's settled in.

I can't take it anymore.

"OMG, guys. You're too frakin' cute. Seriously. I can't even."

H.G. turns to look at me, somewhat confused to my lingo, never taking her hands off Myka. "I'm not sure what all of that means."

"Uh, it means, you guys are cute together. Seriously cute whenever you're doing your couples thing." Myka blushes and curls closer to H.G. at this.

Pete turns around to look in our direction. "Yeah, Claudia's right. You two are totally 'that couple.'" he adds, using his hands to gesture "that couple." H.G. lets out a hearty chuckle, giving Myka another quick kiss on the cheek.

"Pfft," Steve butts in, "go hop on a plane to Massachusetts or Vermont and get married or something already, yeesh."

Myka and H.G. stop laughing and get really, really quiet. Oh God, Steve went too far.

"Actually..." H.G. begins.

"...we already did that." Myka finishes and shows off her hand with a gold band around it. How did I not see that before? Right, well, Myka's the observant one and if the observant one is not divulging then there's no way I'm going to notice things like that. "Remember we went to New England back in February? It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I mean, we were planning on it..."

"Wait, you were engaged and stuff?" I say.

"Yes, right when Helena got back." adds Myka.

"Where are you registered?" Steve asks.

H.G. laughs. "We're not."

Pete doesn't add anything, just walks over to Myka. He holds out his hands and Myka puts hers in his as he pulls her up. He hugs her for a long time, whispering something into her ear I can't hear. H.G. turns her head to look at me, smiling. I hear a couple sniffles from Pete when he lets Myka go and returns to his domain of the grill.

She settles back down next to H.G., this time sitting next to her rather than in front of her. Myka nudges her arm and the two share a smile.

I let out a huge sigh. "Seriously, you guys are too cute."

So unfair.


	10. Chapter 10: Wearing Animal Ears

"How many times have we been to the West Coast this year?" Helena asks me.

I pause, counting on my fingers. "Probably five times. At least."

It's fairly warm out today, Helena has her jacket slung over her shoulder. I'm carrying the bag with our Farnsworths, phones and other stuff we usually need - I don't mind.

"And how are we supposed to find this collar...here?" Helena gestures around us at the hundreds of men and women dressed in every imaginable leather garment. Luckily for us, we actually know what we are looking for, but it's simply a matter of finding it in a crowd this size.

"Look for someone being dominated." I suggest, but then realize how idiotic that sounds here and roll my eyes at myself. Helena sort of tilts her head at me, wondering where my brain has gone. "Someone being very dominated, more than usual."

"Right, well, I will go over to that section and how about I meet you back at the corner of 9th and Harrison." Helena lets off a slight purr at my ear, reaching into the bag we share. She's hunting around for a static bag and gloves. "Whilst here, I wouldn't at all mind if you picked up some items." My eyes widen for a moment; there's no way I could handle that much leather. She's so incorrigible sometimes.

I give her a quick kiss as we part. I have never liked splitting up when we're working. Too much chance for plans to go horribly wrong, not to mention the high probability that Helena is going to do something amazing or silly. I don't want to miss anything she does, especially when we're in San Francisco - polar opposite of the Badlands.

45 minutes later...

"Myka!"

I turn my head at Helena shouting my name in this crowded place. She's walking towards me wearing a cat ear headband and pulling a buff, shirtless young man wearing a leather hood (complete with a zippered mouth) and leather pants with a collar and chain around his neck. Oh dear.

"Helena, what -"

"Found the artifact." She's clearly pleased with herself for finding it, but does she really need to grab this boy along with her? Helena gently pulls his leash as the three of us walk to a quieter area of this well-attended street festival.

"And you hate cats." I say with a motion towards the cat ears. "What's going on?"

Helena is acting all coy, relishing tugging that leash a little more than I anticipated.

With gloved hands, I take the collar off him and toss it into the static bag. Sparks fly and yet again the world is safe from another dangerous artifact. The young man reaches up to the zipper at the back of his head and removes the mask.

"Thanks, Myka."

I recognize the voice: it's Steve.

"I'm not going to ask."

He chuckles for a second, looking at his feet. "Who do you think called in the ping?"


	11. Chapter 11: Wearing Kigurumis

"Hell. No."

"C'mon." Pete keeps poking me and pleading with me. This has been going on for about 20 minutes now.

"I said hell no."

"C'mon."

"Fine." I put the animal head over my hair. Good thing Helena convinced me to pull my hair back today instead of letting the curls get everywhere.

"C'mon, Mykes."

"Pete, I said 'fine.'" Twirling myself around to face him, wherever it is he happens to be standing.

"Oh."

"I feel like a tool."

"You fit best in the costume."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, I know you love me." He's all smiles, all ignoring every word that I say. So typical of him. "Besides, it's the only way into the staff area."

It's about 90° here, the middle of the week, the middle of the day and I'm definitely not feeling any benefit to being here at a soothing, refreshing water park and theme park. Knowing Helena, she charmed her way into an air conditioned sanctuary somewhere on the property. I opted to stick with Pete today since Helena seemed feisty this morning; I think she just needs some space and quiet.

"Just point me in the right direction."

Pete turns me towards a doorway and I just start walking. Surprisingly, I don't hear any chuckles out of him.

A theme park with water park at the end of June, when the kids are out of school, in the middle of the week is a dangerous combination for me. Helena is overwhelmed with the masses of children under the age of 12 roaming around, laughing and screaming at every opportunity. Cases (and days) like today are difficult for her. At first (when I started noticing these reactions), I tried to get her to open up to me about it, but she got quiet and needed time to think things through thoroughly. Whenever life involves children is the only time I ever see Helena shy away from a situation and retreat into her own brain.

Complete in my furry costume, I trudge towards the employee lounge to look for this artifact that apparently is hiding out somewhere amongst lockers, showers and other equally horrifically smelling things. This is one day where I completely hate my job.

I quickly take off the giant cartoon head and place it somewhere it can be easily found by the staff. The artifact is placed in one of the staff's lockers - they won't even realize it's missing. A speedy drop into a static bag and all is neutralized.

Seeing as it's the middle of the day and nearly all of the staff in costumes and the like are wandering the property, no one is down here to check on me. At this point, I only want to wash away the horror that was wearing this stupid costume and head towards the shower area. I don't think anyone will mind if I take a quick hose down. I remove the furry lower portion of the outfit and only have on the clothes in which I came to this theme park. They are totally drenched, so I look around for at least a t-shirt or some shirt that I can "borrow." Wow, I've been hanging around with Claudia too much.

I quickly find a tank top (smells pretty clean) and head to the shower area. There already is someone showering in one of the stalls, so this needs to be a rapid venture before they start getting chatty with me. I strip naked and plunge into the cool water, eager to get all of this grime and cartoon character off me. For a moment, I stand in the stall and relish the cool water against my skin. In a matter of moments, I feel significantly better.

"Excuse me, do you have any soap?"

I know that voice. I know that terrible Midwestern American accent anywhere. I try to suppress my giggles.

"Helena?"

Pause. Pause.

"Myka?"

I leave my shower stall, completely naked, not caring if anyone else is out there (and there shouldn't be) and open hers. Helena is in the shower, trailing her eyes up and down my body.

"I thought you'd be looking for the artifact?"

"I found it." I say as I shut the door behind me and walk towards her. "What are you doing in here?"

Helena pauses and shyly tilts her head so it's directly under the running water. "I wanted to get away from everyone for a moment. It was getting to be too much."

"I understand. It's alright, just don't hide from me, okay?"

I pull her close to me, my front to her back, and we stay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other and not saying anything. The cool water relaxes us both as we cling to one another.

When I finally come to my senses and realize that we are taking a shower in the employee lounge area of a theme park, I kiss Helena's neck to get her out of the trance she's apparently in. She purrs and tangles her hand around to my own neck.

"Love you." She says as she turns to face me.

She'll - _we'll_ - be alright.


	12. Chapter 12: Making Out

"I hope you're ready for 30 minutes in heaven." I tease.

"Only 30?"

"You know I'm good for more than that."

We're standing line for a ticket to the London Eye; I'm trying to get Helena to see how much London has changed since 1899, at least from an aerial perspective. Both of us hate the tourist traps, but there's so much Helena has not had the opportunity to experience and to see from her old haunts. It's not quite sunset, but it will be dark by the time we're done; January might seem to be the worst time to embark on a trip like this.

"Let me use your card." I say, turning towards Helena. She fumbles around in her bag for her wallet which she then passes to me. I open it to find about five different currencies in various denominations and several credit cards from just about everywhere. It all looks the same to me. "Helena, which one's your British card?"

I hand her back the wallet and watch her comb through the contents. After nearly a year of being away, it's no surprise that her wallet is filled with numerous cards, currencies and bank account numbers for just about every corner of Europe, Asia and North America. She quickly pulls it out and hands it over to me. I pay for the tickets and then step ahead to board.

For a winter evening, it's quiet and we step into the capsule. There's already two men at the other end, standing next to each other, quietly talking. We sit on the bench in the middle and only get up once it starts moving. I stand up, holding my hand out so she can get up. Helena and I walk towards the glass and look outside at the City. It's been awhile since she has seen her home and to see so many additions, modifications and torn down buildings impresses upon her how much has changed.

We look out as we slowly move from position to position, Helena points out buildings to me and is happy looking at familiar sights. She stands next to me, but doesn't hold me or touch me. I realize that she sometimes dislikes public displays of affection; however, it just might be her 19th-century sensibilities getting the best of her.

I look behind me to see what we can viewed out of the other window and only notice those two young men with whom we are in this capsule making out with each other. Helena is still looking out the front, oblivious to what's occurring behind her.

"Sorry." The dark haired man says once he comes to his senses that he's not alone in here. He has an American accent, is well-dressed and looks a bit bashful as he releases his ginger-haired boyfriend from his embrace.

"No worries." I reply with a smile.

"It's nice having the capsule to ourselves, right?"

"Definitely."

"American?"

"Yup."

"What are you doing over here?"

"Oh," I glance over at Helena looking out the window, "seeing family and friends." She finally catches on that I'm engaged in a brief conversation with this fellow and turns to look at me. "You?" I ask.

"Same. Here to meet _this one's_ parents. He's English." He nudges his boyfriend who finally turns to look at me. He gives me a quick wave and turns back to look outside, adjusting his glasses in the process. I smile and gesture towards Helena. He grins back. "The things we do for love."

"Yeah."

Helena shifts her head sideways and waves at the two men, then looks back at me. "Making friends, are we?"

"You know friendly, sociable me." I scoff.

When I press my lips to her forehead, she pulls me closer and places her hands on my face. We share a smile and a glance. My eyes instantly shut as I lean myself down lower to her level to kiss the palm of her hand. Helena then tucks her hands inside of my coat in order to pull me in closer to her. Our bodies are pressed together, we're just looking at each other, being completely content with the fact that we're here in London, so in love and don't seem to have any other cares. My hands swiftly move to grip the railing next to Helena, steadying myself as I angle towards her. Our lips collide, our mouths open, our tongues lick and tug, and we're perched 135 meters above the city, completely in awe of each other.

Ever since she came back a couple weeks ago, I need to pinch myself to remind me how fortunate we are.


	13. Chapter 13: Eating Ice Cream

It's October, we're back in Vermont. The leaves have already changed and are at the end of peak season. Regardless of it being the end of the season, it's beautiful. Some of the trees are totally bare, but some still cling to red, yellow and orange leaves. The majority of the foliage seems to be littering the ground as we drive on old back roads and through wooded areas. The air is crisp, but the sun is still out and shining.

Everything about this drive is nearly perfect. Myka sits next to me in the passenger seat as we drive down the highway. This is the kind of place I like driving, where I don't have to deal with too many cars and it's calm. I step on the gas a bit much time and again to keep Myka awake. She prods my arm and calls me leadfoot on those occasions. She has on her geeky little sunglasses that flip up, her leg is propped up against the side of the door, she has her hair pulled back so the breeze doesn't move her curls everywhere.

Despite her best intentions to completely ignore the teachings of Pete, Myka has learnt a thing or two from him. One of them being a love of ice cream. She usually goes for some kind of gelato or sorbet, but I occasionally catch her eating something a bit creamier and indulgent. It's good for her to cut loose every once in a while.

"Would you care to make an ice cream stop?" I casually suggest as Myka taps her foot against the door.

"Ooh, that sounds good."

We drive a few more miles down the highway until we get off at an exit leading to a local road. At the intersection of the exit, Myka looks around at the signs, surprised at where we are.

"Are we going to the Ben & Jerry's Factory?" I turn the corners of my mouth into a grin. "We have to send Pete a photo." She mischievously adds with a smile as she looks back towards the road.

It's after Columbus Day weekend, so the crowds seem to have returned home. That and with the weather turning colder, it's a bit quieter than one would typically expect from an ice cream parlor. Children are in school, so I don't have to fight over the last brownie - if it comes to that, that is.

We walk up what seems a like a hundred stairs to the top where the factory entrance is. My eyes widen at the bright colors of every piece of furniture, every wall, every corner of this place. Decor be damned, I really just want some ice cream.

Myka grew up with freezers and refrigeration; I'm still in awe over putting leftovers in a container in the fridge and they keep for days on end. Ice cream is still a treat for me, which she likes to tell me reminds her of her grandparents who always said the same thing. For a moment, I wonder what Christina would have thought of such a place. She, like me, would probably have been more interested in seeing the ice cream made on the factory floor, then would have found a charming way to get one of the employees to give her an entire pint rather than just a sample. My mind wanders to thoughts of Christina and how much I would have loved taking a family holiday with her and Myka.

Myka. She would have absolutely adored Christina. I could have easily seen the two of them playing outside together, running around, jumping into piles of leaves, enjoying everything about this time of year. There was a time when I'd have thought that the modern world was no place for a child, but I look at our family back in South Dakota, Myka's playful expressions, how much she loves me, how wonderfully we function as a couple, and think that they would have got on tremendously.

As we sit down outside with our treats, I look over at Myka studying the mountains and their many colors. Her leg is bouncing back and forth, completely at ease and happy with everything about our day.

"You going to take that photo to send to Pete?"

Myka giggles and holds up my ice cream container, complete with the whipped cream and brownie. It's much richer than her own, so it is better to send off to Pete. I quickly snap a photo, sending it along to him with a short message.

* * *

Doing inventory in the Warehouse isn't nearly as much fun as traveling. Pete takes off his gloves when he hears the message notification chime. He recognizes it as H.G.'s ringtone and grins at the thought of her message. Since her return, the two of them have got into the habit of sending texts and photos, usually joking in nature and silly things that she knows he would like and vice versa. It has been her way of making amends for past behavior.

Opening the message he sees a smiling Myka, eyebrows raised, holding and pointing to a really delicious-looking sundae and reads:

_Scrumptious things I've eaten today._

H.G. sure knows how to flaunt, he thinks.


	14. Chapter 14: Genderswapping

"You look like an 18th-century dandy, Helena."

"Look like? I am. What, you don't like the stockings?"

"Oh, I do. Your legs are lovely."

Helena lifts her mask to come over and kiss my cheek. "You flatter me." She straightens out the vest and jacket she's wearing, adjusting her mask to perfectly hide her face. "Did you have to go dressed as that?"

"My plague doctor costume is more than appropriate after the hell we've gone through last year. And...it also happily reminds reminds me why I dropped out of the pre-med program." Helena laughs at tucks a wallet inside of her jacket.

I never had the chance to go to Venice during Carnevale, never thought I would be here for it or be here in costume. Helena has been to Venice (she says little of the layout has changed) and also never been to anything like Carnevale as it wasn't going on in Venice back in her day. She seems a bit dismayed that the entire city has been overrun by foreign tourists and every piece of property has some form of greeting or instruction in at least six languages.

"You know, we go on holiday when we get home." Helena whispers in my ear. I smile. It'll be our first real vacation, not just something thrown into one of our artifact recoveries. Even though we're enjoying our couple of days in Venice, it's still not as if we're truly here on our own accord. We have been fortunate enough to have a day here and there, but nothing significant. Artie and Mrs Frederic have been more than accommodating considering all that's happened.

We walk up and down small bridges traversing canals, around winding streets with stone walkways, alleys with sharply-angled turns, one after the other. Helena does remarkably well for someone who doesn't need a map to navigate the city, but it's not as though Venice is the sort of place that is easy to follow on a map in the first place.

Upon reaching our destination, we arrive at a cafe overlooking a piazza. The ground is still a bit wet from the morning's rain. There might be some seriously bundled up tourists sitting outside (perhaps they think it warm?) at the tables, but we aren't that adventuresome when we have the option of the great indoors. Helena and I walk to the back of the cafe to take a seat against plush cushions, sitting side-by-side to assist in staying warm.

Whenever we go out at a coffee shop or cafe or restaurant, we prefer to sit next to each other rather than on opposite sides. I get to slip my hand in her pocket and hold it there; she places her hand on my thigh and occasionally trails one fingernail up and down the sides when no one is looking. She loves lightly teasing me in front of others, especially when they have no idea what she is up to under the table or inside my jacket. We remove our masks and comfortably sit pressed against each other in a corner, barely able to see all of the costumed people and tourists outside.

Eventually a waiter comes over and asks what we'd like: I order a Bellini for myself, a hot chocolate with cream for Helena and some scones and sandwiches. She raises a single eyebrow at me.

"You don't sound that awkward when speaking Italian." Sometimes, she's too kind. "How did you know I wanted hot chocolate?"

"I had a hunch." I reply with a wrinkle of my nose.

"Alcohol for you so early in the day?"

I quickly glance at my watch underneath my black robe. "It's practically noon. Besides, it can be one of those breakfast-y alcohol beverages."

"Please let me have at least one sip when it arrives."

Once our items arrive, I quickly chug down my drink, forgetting to even give Helena the tiniest sip. Sometimes, whenever I have something important that I need to ask her, I get a bit nervous. The dose of liquid courage is what I need to ask Helena the following that I simply blurt out.

"What-kinda-ring-d'you-want?"

"Pardon?"

"Ring. Wedding ring. You gave me a ring. I don't have a ring for you."

Helena smiles and pulls my flushed face closer to hers. "I don't need a ring, Myka."

"You say that, but I want to get you one."

She's quiet. Too quiet. Fiddling with her locket underneath the lace collar she is wearing. "Alright." She catches the waiter's attention and orders a couple more drinks. Refocusing her attention on me, she says, "Find something that matches the one I gave you."

I feel better now. Huddled together in the corner, Helena in her velvet suit and me in my black robe, we softly whisper to each other our vacation plans for the upcoming week and goals we want to accomplish this year. We watch patrons come and go as we enjoy our drinks and snacks from the giant caddy filled with scones and sandwiches. Helena loves how this reminds her of teatime and I have to promise her that we will start doing this back home.

"Come on, let's go scare some tourists with your mask."


	15. Chapter 15: Different Clothing Style

Since she has returned, this is the first time that Helena had to go off somewhere with the Regents. The details were hazy, it wasn't as though she could go into much detail. Without me. I'll be honest, I am a little bit nervous about being away from her for a week or more. It's not as though we haven't endured longer times apart, but that was before. Before before.

Today is a warm afternoon in late April, a Sunday; only me, my music, my books and my tea. I have been lounging around on our bed, comfortably reading and relaxing on one of my first days off in a couple weeks. It's not nearly as much fun as it is when Helena is here though. Whenever we have a day off, we tend to take a drive, sleep in, go to the movies, talk a walk in the park or, simply, just stay in bed.

This day though, with me alone at home, is especially dull and I find myself unable to get into the book I am reading even though every detail is perfect for such an endeavor. I toss my book aside and wander over to the window to take a quick look outside at the newly green trees and budding flowers. For a brief moment, I consider going outside; however, our room seems much more interesting, especially since Helena has got the majority of her belongings out of storage and moved in here. There are a considerable number of new items decorating what was once my room, primarily Helena's books, a framed old map of London on the wall and a couple oddly-sized trunks.

We do our best to talk about the past (hers and mine) each week, opening up to one another about schooling, travels, lovers, writing, reading, family, employment. The topic of Christina comes up a couple times a month with Helena telling me stories of her equally strong-minded daughter's adventures and mischief. Where she was once saddened and angry at discussing Christina, Helena now is more forthcoming and jovial in her descriptions, laughing and smiling at her own stories.

She hasn't opened the trunks in front of me - I have absolutely no idea what's in them. She did say that they contained some of her "old belongings," but whatever that is can be left open to interpretation. I don't want to pry, but can't help myself when looking at these gorgeous trunks probably filled with lots of Helena's past. It's not as though I'm forbidden from opening them or anything. Maybe I am spending too much time with Pete.

I walk over to the bedroom door and ensure it's firmly shut. Even though no one else is home, I still don't need someone barging in here at me looking through these things. Who knows what's inside. Starting with the largest trunk which is sitting upright in the corner with a picture of us and a lamp on it, I move the photo to the desk and unplug the lamp then place it on the chair by the window. Once I return to the trunk, I carefully slide it out of place and undo the four metal latches down the side.

Slowly spreading each side open, I first see one side filled with men's shirts and trousers as well as a couple of dark, fancy dresses. The men's linen shirts make me smile; I haven't seen her in a collared shirt in ages now that she's discovered tank tops and t-shirts. The dresses, on the other hand, are so strange for me to see, almost uncharacteristically her at this point. Even now, I take for granted that I get to see her every day in a pair of jeans or yoga pants rather than a flowing, billowy skirt or dress.

The other side of the trunk is a series of seven drawers of varying sizes. Upon opening the top drawer, I find several pairs of long stockings, some cotton, some linen, as well as a lot of shorter men's socks. I pull each of the drawers open to find everything from cufflinks to garters (men's and women's) to every sort of glove imaginable. One of the bottom drawers is filled with nothing but scarves. Finally at the bottom of the trunk are a couple of corsets and chemises, rolled up and unneatly packed in the drawer. All of these clothes seem so dark, dreary; perhaps they were purchased during a period of mourning or were clothes that Helena used to wear when hunting artifacts. There's no jewelry in here, so this had to have been her Warehouse traveling trunk.

I have never seen such lovely clothes in my whole life, such a variety of fabrics and textures. My brain tells me "no, don't touch, your name's not Pete." My head tells me, "how often you going to be able to try on Victorian clothing in such good condition?" Not that it was at the top of my bucket list, but nonetheless it's a thought since all of it is presented before me. I re-open the drawers with the stockings, garter belt and garters, pulling out a set which I think goes together. I find a crumpled chemise, corset cover and corset as well and toss them into the pile of things atop the bed I am going to figure out how to put on me.

This is by far the most intricate clothing I have ever put on myself.

Quickly, I run over to the window to pull the curtains shut, just in case Pete or Steve come home early, and run into the bathroom to wash my hands after touching the dirty trunk. I don't want to get smudges or stains on Helena's nice things. I go over to the bed and take off every inch of my clothes: I am determined to figure this out.

I start with the chemise, pulling it over my head to keep me warm. It is spring and the weather is nice; however, there is still a bit of a chill in the air. The linen top is soft against my skin, considerably light and comfortable. If I were a nightgown wearing woman, this would be heavenly. Next come the cotton stockings that I inelegantly roll up each of my legs. The hardest part will be getting the stockings attached to the garter belt which I have no idea how to do.

Once again, my brain is not paying attention at all. It's not noticing the car pull up. It's not noticing the clunk of boots on the staircase. It's not noticing my wife opening the door and standing before me in complete shock.

"Myka?" I immediately get up off the bed, at which time my stockings tumble down. Helena laughs at the sight of my rolled down stockings and points to them. "Are those my..."

"Yes." I quietly, yet quickly answer. "I wanted to see what your clothes were...like."

"How do you find them?"

"Complicated."

"Would you care for some assistance?" She leans in to kiss me on the lips. I've missed her so much, even though only a week has passed, it's still such a long time.

I pause, trying to decipher what she's saying. "Yes, but doesn't one usually try to get someone _out_ of these sort of clothes?"

Helena tilts her head to one side, gauging how the clothes I do have on look on me. "That is how this typically works, yes." She kneels down and lifts up part of the chemise to see where the garter straps are, smiling and licking her lips when she notices I don't have on any underwear. Her hands smooth over my thighs and she clasps the back of one stocking onto the belt. We make eye contact for a brief second, then I realize I'm completely gone when her mouth is on me.

I'm not quite sure how she does it, but Helena manages to attach all the stockings to the garter belt and (very) sloppily put the corset on me, but not tighten it. All the while, she has me bent over backwards on the bed, utterly satisfying me with her alluring lips and wandering tongue. No one has ever dressed me and pleasured me at the same time. Only Helena could do something like that.


	16. Chapter 16: During Their Morning Ritual

"Wake up."

Incoherent grumbles.

Something is poking me. I know perfectly well who it is, but not what is doing the poking. I think it's a pair of lips? Fingers? A toe?

"We're running late, come on."

More grumbles.

The prodding resumes.

"Alright!" I shout, sounding a bit more abrupt than intended. I flip face down, flop my head on the pillow and reach a hand up to scratch the top of my unruly hair. A quick glance of the clock tells me that it's 6:18 am, but in reality Myka's set it about 15 minutes fast to prevent mornings such as these. The blinds are still drawn and I can't tell if it's bright or dark outside. "We're not running late," I say into the pillow, "when you've set the clock ahead. I have loads of time."

I feel myself tumble into a light snore, directly into my pillow. At one point, the sheets are pulled off me and there's nothing but cool morning air touching me, soon followed by a rap on my bottom.

A few disgruntled moans escape from my lips.

"Helena." I wipe some of the sleep from my eyes to gaze upon my wife, nearly dressed, standing before me with one hand on a hip and the other trying to pull my pillow away from me. She sounds firm; very unbending this morning. I will hand it to her, she does keep me on schedule. "We have a flight to catch."

Reluctantly, I fall onto my back and look up at the ceiling. This is one morning where I simply do not want to get out of bed.

"Can't I have a bit of a lie-in?" I know I'm whining like a child, but it's early, we were up late the night prior, had at least three drinks and my legs aren't moving.

"No. Get up."

"Perhaps some encouragement then?" I wriggle my hips to-and-fro, all with a happy smile on my face. "I think I had some very...interesting...dreams." I didn't really, but it's worth a try. Of course she's having none of it.

A pile of clothes lands on me, startling the comfort I once had. "You can sleep on the plane, in the car and then in our big, comfy bed." I prop myself up on my hands, pushing upwards as my clothes fall to my side. "Helena, get up, or if the person cleaning the rooms stops by, I will tell them the room's ready to be cleaned."

"Fine, I'm up." Begrudgingly, I get out of bed and make my way towards the bathroom. A hot shower will probably wake me up a bit more than I am now.

"Good, because with that pasty white skin they'd confuse you with the sheets and toss you in with the other linens."

That's the final sentence I hear as I turn on the water full blast. I stand in front of the shower, waiting for the water to heat up before I plunge in. Moments before getting into the shower, Myka appears in the doorway, shirt completely unbuttoned, toothbrush sticking out of her mouth and hands filled with my clothes. I take them from her hands and place them on the counter, most likely annoying (and hopefully arousing) her with some ogling of the untucked, open shirt.

I'm fairly certain she is upset regarding my inability to move some mornings. When I first returned to the Warehouse at Christmas, I was awake every morning bright and early. In retrospect, it was probably due to the immense jet lag and complete happiness of being in what has become my new home. Perhaps after four months of working these typical 60-hour weeks, traveling for work, vacation with Myka and then some has burnt me out a little. Now, it takes every ounce of my strength to get up in the mornings, especially when a certain voluptuous curly-haired woman is (for the most part) naked next to me all night long, holding me, pressing herself against me, kissing me so sweetly and encouragingly whenever the alarm goes off. I love waking up like that every day, even if I can be a tremendous hellion.

After an unforeseen amount of time in the shower, Myka reappears. She's now dressed, wearing her jacket and looking a bit peeved. Maybe I should stop agitating her and simply get ready to head out.

* * *

"Are you still cross?" I ask, nursing a large cup of juice with my sunglasses down, indoors. The sunglasses help me block out a bit more of the sunlight to help ease into my morning. Sometimes, I don't feel as though I recognize myself in this world.

Myka reaches over and takes my hand in hers. "No, you're kind of a nightmare to get out of bed." I tilt the plastic cup towards her and offer a sip of my juice which she gladly accepts. "This is good. Where the hell did you find fresh squeezed blood orange juice at the airport, past the security checkpoint?"

"Oh, you know, I just...asked. Me and the power of persuasion. It's finally kicked in." I might not be able to get my way early in the morning, but I certainly know how to pull Myka's strings once the day has started. "You best prepare yourself for when we get home." I say with a raised eyebrow.


	17. Chapter 17: Spooning

After a couple hours in the outdoor sporting goods megastore picking up some supplies, Helena and I climb back into our SUV and drive into the woods of Maine. There's some drizzles of rain, but nothing that will ruin our plans for a few days out in the woods.

"Lobster stop?" she asks. Helena has consumed more lobster in the past week than anyone I know. "I need my fix."

"Sounds good." I say as we pull into a small town en route to the park where we'll be camping. "I understand how South Dakota deprives you."

"Don't worry, it'll be in roll form and not at all messy."

I ride up to this tiny shack on the side of the road and Helena goes up to the counter to order for us. I remain in the car looking out at the cove, watching the birds and occasional small wave. Helena's fumbling around in her pocket for cash; it's usually endearing watching her try to make sense of all the currency that looks exactly alike. The air is getting chilly here, the leaves changed a few weeks ago and the foliage season is over.

Helena happily returns to the car with a couple overstuffed lobster rolls. "We're in luck. They're closing for the season in a couple days." She sits down in the passenger seat and holds out a roll to me. I take a couple bites, but am not really hungry, so instead give Helena the rest of my food. As always, I think she had this planned all along and smiles at the half-eaten lobster roll making its way into her lap. "Thanks."

After wiping my hands on a napkin, I turn on the car and get ready for an hour drive or so into a more secluded, wooded area of the state. Helena originally thought I was insane for suggesting that we go camping. She said she had to do enough "roughing it" back in the 19th century. While it's easy to concur with her on that matter, I assure her with the advent of ripstop nylon, polar fleece, aluminum, Gore-Tex and duct tape, we'll be perfectly fine. That and we can sleep on the bed of the car.

By the time we reach the campground, it's dark. It gets dark just a little bit earlier up here this time of year. There are a few other cars here, but we manage to find a slip that is secluded and private.

Helena puts on her new outdoor coat (something that I had been telling her to get for about a year now) and wanders a bit away from where the car is. My hands are occupied with an electric lantern, but I know that I need to find a lighter so we can have a fire. I hunt through my bags and find one, along with a packet of gum, cords for every electronic device we own and fuzzy socks. As I return towards the designated fire pit, Helena returns from the woods with several pieces of wood and some brush.

There's nowhere to sit out here except the ground and I am fairly certain that Helena doesn't want to get her new coat all dirty. I open the trunk of the car, regally gesturing to the spot where she can sit. Helena walks over to the space, going right towards the sleeping bag we just purchased. At the sporting goods store, we picked up a two-person sleeping bag, figuring it would be best for staying warm when these nights get much colder. Of course, we always sleep best when we're cuddled together.

"It's fairly cold, Myka. You think it's too early to break this in?"

"Let's go for it." I move all of the luggage to the front and Helena adjusts the seats so they are flat and comfortable for sleeping. We take the sleeping bag out of the carrying case and spread it out over the back of the car. "I'm getting changed then." I add as I start taking off my coat. Helena immediately starts to do the same and digs around her bag for some clothes to wear. She passes me a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt that I quickly change into behind the cover of the car's door.

I unzip my side, she unzips hers and we both climb into our oversized sleeping bag. Helena has on these baggy flannel pants that barely stay on her hips (not that I mind) and a grey tank top. Each time she shifts in the sleeping bag, I feel her tug at her pants and try to pull them up. No more than a few seconds roll by when suddenly Helena is sliding her arm underneath my neck and the other arm is pulling me into her body. I'm happily contoured against her body; one of her hands pressing against my stomach, the other sliding under my shirt against my breast and her thigh pressed between mine. She rests her chin on my shoulder and simply holds my relaxed body to hers. I could easily sleep like this every night.

There are times when I can't decipher what is going through Helena's brain. Most of the time her behavior hinges from one extreme to the next. Not that it's a problem, I love her moods. It's what makes her unique. Sometimes, she is all high energy, inventing, scheming, hungry as hell, doing ten things at once - basically how she was en route to the campground eating those lobster rolls. Other times, she is calm, subdued, cuddly and sleepy. Right now, it's calm Helena who has nothing on her mind other than being protective and loving. Usually I am the big spoon and hold her since she's smaller than me, but this is perfect change of pace.

Being held by Helena is the best sensation in the world. My eyes shut and I drift off to sleep. Helena's not too far behind me.


	18. Chapter 18: Doing Something Together

This was a particularly rough week of artifact hunting with Pete. I was tired, bruised, achy and desperately in need of a shower, or perhaps a bath if I could sneak away from my fellow housemates for long enough. I want to be home and relaxing after this horrible week. Just forget about all of the problems I have been encountering on the road lately. Before leaving the Warehouse, I send Helena a quick text:

at WH & heading home. Could really use a bath. Miss you. TVTB.

After a brief stop in the kitchen to pick up a bag of ice – an item we always make sure to keep on hand due to everyone's inclination to injury – I head upstairs to our room where I fully expect to find some very quiet space. It is still early in the afternoon with no one aside from a very exhausted Pete around, so no one would be bothering me anytime soon. I furiously smile when I see the Post-it on the bedroom door in Helena's elegant script: _Rejoins-moi au bain_.

Turning the doorknob, I open the bedroom door to find the windows slightly open, the curtains rustling and the sound of Italian opera. As a birthday present, Claudia had heavily modded a phonograph to connect with a variety of gadgets so we can enjoy a more "old-fashioned approach" to music listening as well as play old records. I walk over to the phonograph to take a look at the connected iPod. A swipe of the screen reveals the music, making me smile. The bathroom door is ajar and there is a low humming coming from the person inside.

Peering between the bathroom door, I see Helena stretched out in the bathtub; eyes covered with a damp washcloth, hands gripping the sides of the tub, humming along what sounded like the opera music playing. I quietly approach the edge of the bathtub and sit down on the bathmat facing opposite her. I pick up Helena's left hand, tenderly kiss it and place it back in its position on the tub's rim.

"Hey."

Helena removes the washcloth and opens her eyes to see her tired and grubby wife sitting before her. "Welcome home. I missed you." She looks at me, silently assessing how dirty and ragged I appear. "Look at the state of you."

I glance myself over for a moment and pause, "Yeah, it's been a very long couple of days. I'm worn out." Usually, whenever I come home from an overnight excursion, I am bubbly and happy to be back. Something is different this time and Helena astutely picks up on it.

"Myka," she says after a very deep breath, "did everything go alright?" I nod my head no. "Still want to join me in here?" I quickly nod yes and then stand up, looking down at Helena lounging in the tub.

Without saying anything, I slowly reach for my boots and pull them off along with my socks. "Yes, just hide your eyes for a sec," I say as I unzip my jeans and push them down. "I don't want you to see…"

It is too late. Helena has already seen the massive bruise on my right thigh, the scrapes along my left calf and the handful of stitches along the left side of my neck. She had noticed me carrying in the bag of ice, but had not realized its purpose. "Myka!" Helena darts herself forward in the tub.

"It's okay, really, Helena. I'm very…sore. I'll be okay." I note as I slip off my t-shirt.

I sink myself into the hot water, opposite my concerned spouse. Helena looks at me directly across from her, looking very distant and weary. I curl myself up with arms around my legs and face towards the wall, not making any contact with her. I made a valiant effort to be in good spirits and smile, but I can't get myself to do it. Waiting a few minutes before she speaks, Helena attempts to get me to open up. "You want to talk about it?" I nod in agreement.

"I'm just very worn out and tired. So happy to be home with you." I quietly say.

Helena reaches both arms out to grab me and to pull me closer, but I don't budge. I feel lost and tired. "Myka, come here." she says and wags a fingers in her direction. "Now rest against me, let me hold you."

I move my way towards Helena, situating myself between her legs and try to find a comfortable position. I cannot stop my eyes from welling with tears and I start to sob in her arms. Helena runs her hand through her hair, continuing to hum along to the opera music and console me in her arms. The other hand holds me around the waist with Helena's fingers gently resting on my thigh, away from the bruises. I finally relax in her arms. "Sorry for the tears, I didn't mean to get all sad and upset. Today just hasn't turned out as expected."

"It's alright. You don't have to be strong all the time." I keep my eyes shut, taking deep breaths that try to match Helena's breathing pattern. I am slowly calming down thanks to Helena's relaxing demeanor with my back resting against Helena's breasts and the back of my head leaning against her shoulder. I really don't want to go into the details of this particular assignment and I can see that Helena picks up on this. Changing topic, she inquires, "What does 'TVTB' signify? It was in the text you sent."

"_Ti voglio tanto bene_." I whisper leaning backwards towards her ear, still with my eyes shut. "It's Italian. It means, well, the meaning is bit hard to describe. It is an expression of care, love, friendship, more than that, wants, needs. It means I love you very much, or I want you, or...it's sort of complex."

I pause for a moment, taking in the feel of the woman I am pressed against in the tub and the smell of her soap. For a few minutes, we silently sit together in the bath, listening to music and enjoying each other's company. I perk up for a moment when one of the tracks changes and pause. I lean my head back, moving a strand of Helena's hair from her ear and press my mouth to her, whispering, "_In te ravviso il sogno ch'io vorrei sempre sognar_. I have always wanted to say that to you."

The lips against Helena's ear cause her to purr at my sweet words, prompting a reaction to hold me tighter to her body. Helena continues to hum along to the music as she holds me. "This is very nice: you very much naked in the bath with me, looking very handsome with your hair pulled up, covered in warm, soapy water, romantic music..."

"Just try to ignore fact there are stitches in my neck."

I love her so much.


	19. Chapter 19: In Formal Wear

"Did you ever see _The Magic Flute_?" Myka asks.

"No, I've never really enjoyed German-language operas."

"I think you'll like it." she confidently adds. Tomorrow afternoon, we have a flight out of Munich, heading back home after a few days in Bavaria. Myka suggests we do a quick detour to Bregenz for a night of opera on the lake, enlisting Claudia to pull some strings to get us a room in Lindau for the night and tickets to a performance of_ The Magic Flute_. Myka always excels at coming up with excellent last-minute date ideas and this one is certainly at the top of the list.

We stand side-by-side on the top deck of the ferry, looking out at Lake Constance as the sun is setting. Lucky for us, the weather is cool and there is no rain. I'm thankful Myka encouraged me to wear my old grey linen jacket. I dislike it immensely; however, it is perfect for weather and times such as this. Myka is busy looking out at the water, glaring at the lights of the towns dotting the coastline. Sometimes, I enjoy merely watching her face as she studies something. Her focus, her mind, her instinct processing everything surrounding her, it's what makes her an exceptional Warehouse agent.

I try to forget what happened the last time we came to this part of the world and look at my wife. I press on once more. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Myka turns her head, curls blowing every direction in the gentle wind and she takes my hand in hers. "I love you." She nudges her head against my shoulder.

"Love you too." She gets quiet again, turning her direction back towards the lake. "Myka, it seems as though something is troubling you." She keeps hold of my hand and we continue looking out at the lake. After a couple sighs, swigs of water from the container she always carries and fidgeting legs against the railings, I can no longer have her stay so silent. "What's the matter?"

"I don't want to go home tomorrow." Myka doesn't whine when she says it, she's resolved to her responsibilities and work. One can sense from her tone how much she has enjoyed our side trips and spending time together. "We're still catching up on things. I feel as though we have spent so little time together recently with your Regent activities and my overnight cases. I miss you."

Rather than stand together by the guardrail, I gently tug Myka's hand towards a nearby vacant bench and we sit. Myka snuggles closer to me, putting her head on my shoulder. She doesn't usually partake in this sort of behavior in public, but since the incident a couple months ago where she was badly injured, Myka has been particularly "hands on" with me when we go out.

"I've missed you too. You know I don't like being apart from you at all." I assure her whilst kissing the top of her curls. Her arm moves around my waist to tightly hold me. "You recall last month? We had a very similar conversation and we both promised to be more forthcoming with these discussions?"

She nods her head against my shoulder.

"I'm trying, Helena. Sometimes though, I shut down, I get introspective and don't say much, but I'm working on that. Even though it's so hard when you're away for a couple weeks and all we get to do is e-mail, text or Skype. Ever since the spring, it just seems to me that you're going away a bit more. So when we finally get a chance to be away from it all, I never want it to end."

Myka is holding back tears, trying to be so strong. It's not that I want to be away, it's that at times, it's necessary for work. My cases and missions aren't dangerous ( I do promise her that much at least); however, they tend to keep me away from Myka whenever she seems to need me the most. At first, I thought it would be alright, something to which we would grow accustom (sometimes she goes off with Pete, sometimes I go off to...wherever it is it appears I'm needed), but each time we are apart and then come back together, Myka needs me a bit more each time.

I find when I'm away and return, I'm needing her just as badly.


	20. Chapter 20: Dancing

It's one of those late spring evenings where it's warm, but it's not full on summer weather yet. While it's warm, it's not quite time to put on the air conditioning. We have the window open, soft jazzy music playing and the lights down low. We are usually in bed by 10:30, resulting in Pete, Steve and Claudia calling us old ladies. Helena always graciously gives them a silent look that says "watch it" and then laughs away the insult. This one evening though, we're in our room relaxing and holding one another, just not quite ready to get in bed to sleep.

I have the uncontrollable urge to move my body around and quickly get up off the bed. I take off my clothes, removing everything but my tank top and then put on a pair of boxer shorts. Helena is sitting on the bed, watching me, wondering what on earth I am doing because she knows I hate sleeping in clothes now that we share a bed. Walking back towards the bed, I extend a hand to her and pull her over to our dancing area.

Helena removes her excess clothing, leaving her in just some boyshorts and a very low-cut v-neck shirt. We stand together in our bedroom, scantily clad and looking at one another without moving. I reach out towards Helena and grab her left hand which I place around my waist. My hand extends to find Helena's other hand and place it in mine.

"Dance with me - I lead." I say. Today seems to be one of those days where she wants to challenge everything thrown at her. Helena arches one of her eyebrows and angles her head slightly downwards. "I'm taller."

We closely hold each other and sway back and forth to my humming along with the music. A few sways in, Helena rests her head on my shoulder and enjoys the sweet sensation of touching me. She slyly dips her fingers downwards under the waistband of my shorts and trails her fingers in a circular pattern taking in the contact with my skin. I hold her close to me for a few songs, often breaking in to remind her how much I love her and love when we dance together like this.

Publicly, I despise dancing. With my wife, it's something of a guilty pleasure that we enjoy in the privacy of our bedroom. Well, I'm sure everyone knows we're dancing as the house is old and the floors probably creak and squeak with each step.

I hope they think we're _dancing_ and not up to something else.

I love having Helena close to me like this, calmly dancing and resting against me. Suddenly, her lips are kissing the bottom of my throat, the side of my neck and my earlobe, and that hand at my waist has quickly wandered much lower, tugging down my shorts in the process.

How quickly this has progressed to "something else."


	21. Chapter 21: CookingBaking

"Whatcha ladies doin'? Whatcha makin'? Is it ready yet? Can I help? Can I have some?" I ask, bouncing into the kitchen like an overeager, curious child. My style is "annoying as hell" in this case, but I am pretty sure they know I'm teasing. It seems as though Myka is mixing some batter together and H.G. is greasing a pan. The two of them widen their eyes and glare at me.

"Slow down, Pete." Myka just smiles and pushes back the bridge of her glasses against her nose. She resumes stirring some batter in a large stainless steel bowl. "We're baking a cake." I peer into the bowl she's holding and glance in. The batter looks green and kind of grainy, probably homemade.

"May I lick the spatula? You know, when you're done stirring and stuff." I'm sticking my tongue out at them, totally eager to get in on this cake action. Sure, it might be weird looking cake mix, but it is cake and it is cake batter.

"Tongue back in your mouth, Pete." H.G. informs me. She goes to check the oven temperature and clean her hands. Myka walks over to the greased pan and pours in the batter, which H.G. then levels out by shaking the pan. "Have you never baked something before?"

"Of course I -"

I blush for a second, embarrassed that the question isn't pointed at me, but rather at Myka who is standing directly next to her.

"No, baking isn't really my thing." Myka says without a pause. She seems to perfectly know H.G.'s tones and movements, exactly when something is just for her and something is for everyone else.

H.G. and Myka are so in tune with one another, it frightens me sometimes. The two of them can zone out the entire world and solely exist in their own little bubble. Every time I watch them interact, it's, I don't know, just so cool. The way they work together, how they talk to one another. They are on a whole other level of discourse. Amanda and I never had that together.

While the ladies are making googly eyes at each other, I walk over towards the cookies. Claudia was in the kitchen earlier and made a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, hoping that they would last through the weekend. It's Thursday, so we shall see if they do, in fact, make it that long. I pour myself a glass of milk and watch Myka put the cake pan into the oven.

H.G. is putting a few items in a picnic basket, just folding up napkins and a small blanket. Myka adds some cutlery to H.G.'s pile of linens and a few plates. My eyes keep drifting over to the neglected bowl and spatula, and then back towards Myka. Finally she gets the hints and passes me the items covered in batter.

"Going on a picnic?" I ask as I lick the spatula.

"Yeah, only a short one in the park with Myka once this cake is done."

"I didn't know you were all into the domestic goddess thing, H.G."

She lifts her head with a distant smile. "I'm full of surprises, Pete. Besides, it's merely another form of chemistry."

My attention shifts back towards my other partner who is washing a couple of dishes by hand now that the bowl appears pristine from my own cleaning. "So, Mykes, what's the occasion?"

"Huh?"

"The cake. The picnic. It's not your birthday or something and I totally forgot it. Is it?"

Myka removes the towel from her shoulder and wipes her hands. "No, it's not my birthday, Pete." she calmly says.

H.G. then moves behind her, wrapping an arm around Myka's waist. "It's Christina's birthday." She takes a deep breath, kisses Myka's neck and looks at me with the biggest smile I've ever seen.


	22. Chapter 22: In Battle, Side-by-Side

"Once upon a time..."

"Oooh, a story tonight!"

"Why, yes. It's been a long day." Over the course of the past month, Helena and I have been on the road quite a bit and not always together. We were lucky to spend her birthday at home together a few weeks ago between flying to California twice, Helena heading over to Iceland and me traveling over to Georgia with Pete. Sometimes Pete is with us, sometimes Claudia and/or Steve, regardless it's always bound to be a good adventure. We work best when we're artifact hunting as a team, complementing each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Helena brushes the hair away from my ear and settles down next to me on the bed. She holds me close to her with the intent of getting me to be as relaxed as possible. It's terribly childish, but I love it when I get a bedtime story from Helena. It gives her a chance to be creative with her mind and express her thoughts and feelings in such an inventive manner.

I keep asking her if she wants to write more, but she's hesitant about starting up again. When she wrote, it was all fountain pens and paper. Now it's keyboards, swipes on a screen or voice recognition software. I have seen her try to sit down at a computer and type out something that wasn't an e-mail. The result was a lot of frustration and complaints about how uncomfortable the seat/screen/desk configuration can be. Even though I told her those aspects can easily be modified, she insisted that pen and paper was the only way to go. When she first came back, she carried with her a little pocket-sized notebook and made notes in there, but those were too small and she went through them way too easily. It made getting her a birthday present a no-brainer this year: five imported A4 paper notebooks with heavy paper, a classy everyday fountain pen and a bunch of erasable blue ink cartridges. She loved her present; now she carries a notebook and her pen everywhere. I catch her furiously writing every day for at least 15 minutes, but I never bother her about it.

I adjust my pillow a bit more so it fully supports my shoulder. "Ready." I announce.

"Once upon a time there was a strong, beautiful maiden who lived in an enchanted forest. Now, this was no ordinary woman, this woman could wield a sword better than any knight in the entire country."

"Is that me?" I ask with a smile.

"Shush, let me continue." Helena says and tickles my side. "The fair maiden was in love with the talented and noble tinkerer, renowned for her gifted and practiced hands."

"Talented, definitely. Renowned, not quite sure anyone else knows."

"This house knows."

I groan and shift my head against the pillow. "Go on."

"The tinkerer and the maiden were madly in love and planned to be married in the spring. One day, a week before they were to be married, a podgy little bear strolled into the village. He said that some mean, vicious beasts invaded their part of the forest and were stealing all of their honey!"

"I feel like that bear is Pete." There's a pinch on my hip. "Sorry." I wrap my arm around her and she continues.

"The lovely maiden immediately ran to her home to collect her sword with which she was rather skilled. The tinkerer hurried back to the workshop to remove her work apron and pick up her grappler." I'm smiling at the thought of her defending bears with the grappler. "The two followed the roly poly bear back into the forest to fight against the beasts who were stealing the honey. Sword in hand, the maiden attacks as many evil beasts as possible, slaying all in her path to retrieve the honey for the bears. Meanwhile, the tinkerer shoots the grappler towards the branches and swings around, kicking away all the bad creatures from the honey.

"The maiden and the tinkerer succeed in eliminating all the beasts and returning the forest to complete safety. As a thank you, the bears give them a couple jars of honey and say they will call again should there be any trouble. And the maiden and the tinkerer, as well as all of those little bears, lived very happily ever after. The end."

"I like that one." I like all the stories that have us as a team, defending the world.


	23. Chapter 25: Gazing into Each Other's Eye

From where I'm sitting, I can't tell if Helena has fallen asleep or just has her eyes closed. She's leaning back on a black wicker chair with her head tilted towards the sun. Despite my insistence she put on sunscreen (which she did), wear sunglasses (which she also did) and put on her little bucket hat (which she begrudgingly did). She keeps her arms in the path of the sunlight and stretches her legs out in front of her even though the large umbrella covering our table does its best to shade us. Moments like these I think she must thoroughly enjoy modern life and having so many naked appendages exposed to the sun.

I take a sip of my sparkling wine (_not_ champagne as Helena reminds me) and let the bubbles slide down my throat. I put my flute on the appropriate coaster to match the drink I've had, making a mental note to pick up a bottle before we leave. This is our last stop of the day and thus far, the most pleasant winery we have visited.

"Hey." I say with a gentle prod of the arm.

"Shhhh...tanning."

"Shhhh? Helena, me talking has nothing to do with the sun reaching your arms."

"Ambiance."

I do a quick check to look at our dinner plans with one of my phone's apps. One more pre-dinner beverage couldn't possibly hurt. I poke her once more, this time with my cell phone. "You want another drink?"

Helena angles her sunglasses down towards the table to assess the drinks lined up before her. We both have one sample we have yet to touch and upon noticing this, removes her sunglasses and reaches for the untouched flute. I spend half a second trying to assess whether or not Helena is drunk, but then I remember she has been imbibing on swigs and flasks of cognac, brandy, gin and whisky since she was a child. She's fine, just dazed by the sun for a moment. Helena modestly raises her drink, looking at mine and motioning with her eyes. I pick mine up as well and smile. Smiles come to me so easily when I'm around her.

"Myka," Helena gives me a serious look that has me worried for a moment, but she soon smiles right back at me, "thank you for today. This is just what we needed."

We gently knock our glasses together, never losing each other's gaze. There is nothing better than when we have time off in whatever city we're visiting to explore and spend time together. Today is one of those fortunate moments where we have taken the afternoon to do something, especially something we can't do back in South Dakota.

"_Cin cin_."

"Cheers." I look at her as she sips her wine. A couple of gulps and the flute is empty. Both flutes.

We linger at our table a bit longer, enjoying the sun and scenery as we settle our bill. Heading towards the car, I remind Helena we're off to dinner and she has a ten-minute drive to tidy herself up with all of that sunscreen and her messy hat head.

"C'mon, let's fill your stomach with some food to absorb the...champagne."

"Sparkling...wine." Helena deliberately and slowly brings to my attention.

I open the passenger door for her and Helena plops down in her seat. "Just get in the car." I say with a grin.


	24. Chapter 26: Getting Married

"Did we...?"

"Yeah."

"You sure...?

"Yeah."

"Huh." I glance at the large envelope I'm carrying and catch the glimmer of the gold ring on my finger before putting on my gloves. "Not nearly the fuss from what I've seen in the past."

We walk along the Waterfront, doing our best to avoid the ice and snow banks. It must be obvious to everyone who sees us that we're from out of town and strolling the sidewalks on a Tuesday morning in February. Myka has me bundled up in as many clothes as possible, perpetually worried that I shall get cold and complain. Whilst this is entirely true, it doesn't bother me how she tries so hard to keep me warm and happy.

"You want to go back to the hotel?"

"Not yet." Myka links our arms together, pressing herself close to me and strolls along the path. "Still in shock."

She understands I'm adverse to the immense cold, always bribing me with a hot coffee or tea, which is what she immediately does after noticing I want to continue walking. "Coffee? Tea?"

"Yeah, sounds lovely."

We linger for a moment longer overlooking the lake and then trudge up the hill towards the center of town. Everything is quiet and we calmly walk, not saying anything. The pair of us excel at silent communication; looks, nods, hands gestures and shifting of Myka's hips can sometimes tell me a whole lot more than words. I love that about her, how we don't always need to speak to fully express ourselves.

A quick walk up the hill brings us to a coffee shop where Myka grabs herself a rather large coffee and I stick to the largest tea I can find, partially to help keep my own hands toasty. With that walk up the hill, we soon return back down the hill to meander along the waterfront. It takes everything to keep Myka standing on her two feet, constantly slipping here or there and nearly spilling her precious coffee.

"Still can't believe it." Myka says. We find one bench from which the snow has been removed and sit down to look out at the frozen lake. She rests her head on my shoulder and takes my gloved hand. "What made you say, 'Let's do it now!'?"

I pause, leaning my cheek against the top of her head. "It seemed like the appropriate time and place."


	25. Chapter 28: Doing Something Silly

I lean my head backwards a bit to rest it against something firm. My shoulders and back ache a bit and I need to get more comfortable sitting here while I read. It is getting cold, but I am not ready to go back inside. Being outdoors on a day like this is perfect and I'm not ready to budge. Fully immersed in my book, I return to reading now that my back has more support. Moments later, and certainly not to my surprise, I hear footsteps crunching on the nearby fallen leaves and Helena shouting my name.

"Myka?"

I giggle. She'll never find me here. Not like I am hiding from her, I was just looking for a good quiet place to read this afternoon.

"Myka?"

"Over here!"

Helena looks around, doing a complete 360° turn and I am nowhere in sight.

"Up here!" She looks up at the tree closest to her and sees me sitting there, casually waving at her.

Helena puts her hands on her hips, looking a bit peeved that I am sitting up in a tree. "What on earth are you doing up there?"

I raise the book in my hands upwards so she can see what I am holding. "Reading."

"I see that. Why there?"

I shrug. "Just felt like it."

Helena looks at the tree, at where I am and shakes her head, brushing her hair behind her ears. She lunges towards the tree and begins to climb up towards where I am seated. With arms stretched out, Helena grasps at the branches as she pulls and kicks her way upwards.

"I had no idea you could climb trees." I say.

"You forget that I had brothers." She pulls herself up and sits on a branch across from me. "Besides, it's significantly easier without a dress."

"Hi." Helena says to me once she has her bearings on the tree limb. Her hair has been a bit mussed in the process; beautiful as always though.

"Hi."

I continue reading, Helena continues staring at me, looking up and down this tree in which we're seated. She's curious, pressing the limbs and gathering how much weight each one can hold.

We spend a good 30 minutes quietly relaxing together. Comfortable silence. I occasionally point out something interesting in my book, she points to fuzzy caterpillars and pretty leaves she finds in the tree. Our peaceful surroundings are interrupted by the crunch of feet as Pete approaches. He's clearly looking for us, but neglects to look up.

"Shall we scare him?" Helena whispers to me.

I nod my head. Helena and I make eye contact for a brief second as she waits for Pete to get into a good position beneath us. She quietly counts to three and we disengage ourselves from the branches, landing directly on Pete.

Pete loudly and repeatedly shrieks and we can't help but laugh as we tackle him with hugs.


End file.
